Past Yearning ⚽ yungi [⏹]

1

Everything doesn't always work out as we imagine. Like when we're building a promising relationship with a friend or more than that, there's no guarantee it will last into the future. They come for today but may be gone tomorrow, becoming a part of our lives that won't return. And we become too busy with new people to dwell on the past.

The same goes for Mingi.

At six, he had a somewhat quiet playmate named Yunho. Fate made them neighbors, attending the same kindergarten in Incheon, not as bustling as Seoul but close enough. Their houses were side by side, and their mothers could share the responsibility of picking up their sons if one had urgent matters.

Yunho, the reserved playmate, was different—not socially awkward, just preferring quieter activities at the downtown playground. But at seven, things changed when they entered the same elementary school. Same class, same desk, but a different playground after school. Swings and slides lost their allure, replaced by games like tag, hide and seek, soccer, and other activities that didn't rely on playground equipment.

They were comfortable, sharing space, joy, and beautiful memories. They thought it would last forever in the same close circle of friendship, without facing significant life-altering changes.

But fate can be cruel.

Something forced Yunho's family to move to Los Angeles, USA.

Back then, the two kids didn't think of sad things. Mingi believed Yunho's departure was temporary. They hugged, said goodbye, and, for a few days, Yunho's house stood empty. Then, new occupants moved in, but the house remained eerily quiet, as if unoccupied. Mingi felt neighborless and feared he'd never find a friend as close as Yunho.

In the first days without Yunho, Mingi felt a void. Everything—the house, classroom, school hallways, and playground—felt different without Yunho. Weeks later, he missed him more, still hoping Yunho would return. Mingi asked his mother every day when Yunho would be back, receiving comforting but uncertain replies. Mingi was too young to grasp the concern in his mother's eyes, so he continued playing with other friends, trying to forget.

Years passed, and Yunho never contacted Mingi. They lost touch. Yunho, whom Mingi tired of waiting, making him moved on, replaced by San, a new friend who took Yunho's place in Mingi's life, thoughts, heart, and perhaps every drop of blood in his veins. Yunho became a distant memory, unnecessary to recall.

Life kept going. Things happened, were left behind, and forgotten. Mingi never remembered knowing someone named Yunho.

San and Mingi always attended the same schools, from elementary to college. They were inseparable, with similar intelligence, ultimately going to the same university.

And perhaps, their feelings for each other grew.

During a common class attended by students from various majors, with the attendance system under repair, San and Mingi spent their time chatting and laughing. As the manual attendance continued, Mingi's laughter stopped when Yunho's name was called. Something disturbed him. He felt he had heard that name before but couldn't remember where.

"Kang Yeosang?" The professor called.

"Jung Yunho?" He called again.

Mingi's attention shifted to Yunho, a student he recognized but couldn't place. San noticed and asked if Mingi knew him, but Mingi remained silent, trying to connect the dots.

Ah, now he remembered.

"Song Mingi?" The professor called again.

Now Yunho stared at Mingi, both struggling to recall. A few seconds later, they exchanged glances, becoming two individuals in a paradox of correlation. No direct connection but a sense of influence.

Influence in their minds, making them think of each other again.

And at that moment, San realized.

There was something between them.